


Broken Wings

by Dragons_Heart



Series: Obikin Week 2K17 [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence - Battle of Mustafar, Damaged Obi-Wan, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mustafar didn't happen, Mustafar happened differently, Obikin Week, Post-Episode III, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragons_Heart/pseuds/Dragons_Heart
Summary: Obi-Wan has been damaged by Anakin's turn to the Dark Side and the Sith. Severely damaged. Is he too damaged to repair or will Anakin be able to put him together again?





	Broken Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 of Obikin Week 2017 is here!!
> 
> I'm actually pleased and amazed with myself for being this consistent since this is my first time doing a ship week.
> 
> Today's prompt is Lyrics and since that is a very....open (?) prompt, this piece is inspired by the song Stand By You, by Rachel Platten. Specifically the following line: 
> 
> "And love, if your wings are broken  
> Borrow mine so yours can open too  
> 'Cause I'm gonna stand by you"
> 
> Here's a link to the song if you would like to listen to it before/during/after reading the piece: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwB9EMpW8eY
> 
> Enjoy!

Cold. He was so cold.

No, that was wrong.

He wasn’t cold he was…what was it…

Numb. That was it. Obi-Wan was numb.

He hadn’t felt anything in days. Or was it weeks? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was at some point the feelings of pain and betrayal had diminished into nothingness. The only thing that reminded him that he still had emotions was the occasional dull ache he felt in his chest, which usually accompanied the light flutter from his heart that he associated as the only remnants of love and joy he had.

These days, he was an angel with broken wings and a broken spirit.

The door to his room slid open and Obi-Wan had to squint at the sudden intrusion of light from the hall. He’d had the windows shuddered, so he’d been laying in perpetual darkness. It was better than having to be seen, to see the outside world. And the darkness of his room was much more comforting than the darkness in the Force. This kind wasn’t painful.

The figure standing in the door moved in, the light from the hall barely escaping with the closing door before the bedside lamp was turned on. Obi-Wan recognized the hem of Anakin’s tunic as his eyes adjusted and he sat up, almost robotically, at the nudge on his shoulder.

“I brought you some food,” Anakin said, setting a tray down on the dresser before sitting down beside him. The warm smile on his face caused Obi-Wan’s heart to do its faint flutter, which was immediately followed by the ache at the sight of Anakin’s eyes.

Gold eyes.

The eyes of the Sith.

Force, how he wished he could hate him because of those eyes.

But he couldn’t. He was too in love with the man inside of Anakin to hate the demon.

Obi-Wan glanced over at the tray of food and shrugged before drawing his knees up to his chest and scooting back against the wall. The action caused Anakin to frown, but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel safe again, to feel warm, and making himself balled up and small was the best way to do that.

“Obi-Wan, you have to eat at some point,” Anakin said, his voice gentle and in sharp contrast to the darkness radiating off him.

He just shrugged again. “Not hungry,” he mumbled, his voice scratchy from lack of use. His once proficient words and strong voice were no more. Now he was silent, only speaking when Anakin addressed him directly.

The younger man’s flesh hand found its way to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, light and comforting. Obi-Wan didn’t shrug him off. Whether that was a good or bad sign was yet to be determined.

“Obi-Wan.” His name rolled off Anakin’s lips smoothly, the man’s tone filled with worry and care. Obi-Wan looked up at him, not really knowing what his own expressions were, but judging by the pain that crossed Anakin’s face, it wasn’t good.

“Do you regret it?” he asked. “Staying with me?”

A slight pause. “No.”

“Are you happy?”

A slightly longer pause. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “Not really.”

“Do you want to leave?”

A much longer pause. “No.”

Anakin sighed and removed his hand from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, electing to now pull one of Obi-Wan’s arms away from his legs and hold his hand. They sat in silence for a while, Anakin playing with Obi-Wan’s fingers while the other man watched. They were like that for a while until Anakin broke the silence again. “I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“Why you don’t want to leave,” the Sith stated. “If you aren’t happy here, I don’t know why you’d want to stay. Not that I _want_ you to leave. I just don’t get it.”

He stayed because he couldn’t fly away on broken wings.

“Our promise,” he mumbled, earning himself a quizzical look from Anakin.

“What promise?”

“I’ll stand by you,” Obi-Wan quoted. “Even if we’re breaking apart.”

Anakin frowned, concern obvious in his golden eyes as he squeezed his hand tightly. “And how long will that last?” he asked. “How far will you follow me down this path before it becomes too much for you? You aren’t suited for the life I’ve chosen.”

Of course he wasn’t suited for it.

Angels weren’t meant to live in darkness.

“I don’t care,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “I’ll follow you even into hell, if that’s what it takes.”

Anakin stared down at their hands once more. “I’m going to take care of you, Obi-Wan,” he finally said. “I’m going to make everything all right again. I’ll keep you safe. Hell, I’ll be anything you need me to be as long as you’ll stay.”

He looked up at Obi-Wan again and, this time, his eyes were as blue and stormy as the ocean on Kamino and as warm as Tattooine. The sight of them caused the ache in his chest to become a real pain and the flutter of his heart to become a racing pounding that threatened to burst out of his chest.

Instead tears spilled from his eyes and a cry burst forth from his lips.

He was immediately pulled into Anakin’s arms, which only made him cry more because it was the first time he’d been held like this in what felt like years. Flesh fingers carded through his hands while leather-covered durasteel ones rubbed circles into his back.

“I’m gonna stand by you,” the other whispered into his ear. “You aren’t alone.”

And for the first time since Anakin’s fall, he believed it.

Perhaps one day the angel would fly again, on wings borrowed from a demon.


End file.
